how old is your soul?
by TamariChan
Summary: In retrospect, the way he meets Hermione isn't romantic at all, but it's certainly memorable. / Godric&Hermione, slogging through time and blood and knowledge.


**Disclaimer: The world and characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling.**

**Thanks so much to AllIKnowIsADoorIntoTheDark for betaing for me- check out her stories, she's an amazing writer herself!**

**Written for the Guilty Pleasure Fic Exchange at HPFC. It's a Godric/Hermione with an optional prompt of 'blood'.**

-:-

The four arrive at Hogwarts a little later than scheduled. And by a little later, Godric means that it's the 21st century, and everything is different.

They walk together up the meandering pathway to the castle, having easily bypassed the wards, and Rowena knocks sharply on the heavy wooden doors.

It's opened in a matter of moments by a maid with bushy dark hair and huge eyes that only get wider when she sees the four. Her clothing style is strange and skimpy, with her arms, ankles, and much of her shoulders exposed.

"Harry?" she calls in a high voice as she turns to look behind her.

"Greetings, miss," Salazar says, pushing past the others and smiling smoothly. "You wouldn't mind taking us to the headmaster, would you?"

She stares at them. Godric wonders if she might have mental difficulties, but then she speaks. "You're Salazar Slytherin," she says, her hand going to her hip where Godric glimpses the handle of a wand.

Salazar raises his eyebrows. "Yes, I am. Do you know of me?"

"Everyone knows of you," the girl says, glancing back again and obviously waiting for something. "And you three." She nods at Godric, Rowena, and Helga.

Footsteps sound before Salazar can speak again and a messy-haired young man with glasses nearly knocks the maid over.

"Hermione!"

"Harry," the girl, evidently Hermione, says, pushing him upright to face the Founders. Harry gapes.

Godric takes the opportunity to step in and smile engagingly. "Are you the current Headmaster?"

He shakes his head and points at Hermione, still speechless.

Helga gasps and even Godric's eyebrows shoot up. Things have changed even more than he previously thought, it appears. But he doesn't skip a beat. "May we come in?"

The Headmistress nods and they follow her into the stone walls of Hogwarts.

-:-

They explain themselves to the pair – "Time travel spell," Helga says, "Very difficult." – and Harry updates them on some of the developments in their long absence. Hermione is quiet and hard-faced and mysterious, and Godric finds himself spending much too long looking at her.

She's pretty, in a very innocent, quiet, Ravenclaw way, but there's something darker there, too. Like the way she moves, flinches, tenses, her hand flying to her hip at any irregular noise, or her habit of rubbing her sleeved forearm.

She notices him staring as Harry and the other three wrap up their conversation and blushes.

A maiden, then?

"You saved the Wizarding World?" Rowena sounds disbelieving in that slightly patronizing way she has and Godric sees Harry almost scowl but remember the situation.

"Yes," the young man says stiffly.

'It's just that you're so _young_," Helga says.

"We're not that much older," Godric reminds the other three. They look faintly surprised, although they shouldn't – with the elixir they've taken, the four are only in their third decade, after all.

Hermione shifts and a hint of tiredness peeks out from under her quiet veneer.

"Perhaps we should get to bed," Godric says. "We can discuss more in the morning."

Hermione shoots him a grateful look.

He thinks then that there's more to her than meets the eye, and swears he's going to find out what.

-:-

Godric awakes the next morning and makes his way to the Great Hall.

He finds the Headmistress standing toe to toe with Salazar, her wand out and her eyes ablaze. Salazar's expression is a curious cross between amused and terrified.

"Don't you- don't you _dare_- say that word- that fucking word- around here," Hermione says, and her words are fire and flame and burnburnburn and Godric realizes with a shock that she was probably in his House, not Rowena's.

He shouldn't be surprised, but he is.

"That's not very proper language, either, Headmistress," Salazar says coolly.

"It's not the same," she says, shaking her head, "and you know it's not the same- you _snake- _do you think my blood is dirtier than yours? Do you? Because it's not- it's fucking not- look-"

She yanks up her sleeve to expose a lingering scar that eagerly bleeds when she rakes her fingernails across it. _Mudblood_.

At this Harry, who must have slipped unnoticed past Godric, pulls the raging Hermione away from Salazar.

"Easy now," Harry murmurs in a quiet voice, audible only to the girl and Godric himself. "Remember who you are."

Hermione takes a deep breath (and Godric takes one with her, unconsciously). The intense fire in her body lessens and she turns to face Salazar again.

"Please do not use offensive phrases while you are in the castle," she says and her tone is now Salazar cold. "Thank you for your compliance."

She turns and walks away.

Somehow, even with these new revelations, she's more of a mystery to Godric than ever.

-:-

"Hello," he says, slipping beside her and grabbing the wall.

They're standing at the top of the Astronomy tower. It's a bit after midnight. He wonders what she's doing up here so late, but then again, he's up here too.

"Hi," Hermione says without turning to look at him. Her bushy hair whips around in the wind.

"I believe you, you know," he says, and now she does look at him with brown eyes that linger on the precipice of deep, yawning grief.

"What do you mean?" Her voice is hollow.

"Your blood," Godric says, and she stiffens. "It's no different from mine, or Salazar's. And yes, Hermione, he's bitter- and resentful- and sometimes very uncouth- but he's not a bad person, not really."

"I know," she says with a sigh. "He wouldn't be with you if he was."

Godric raises his eyebrows. Is that a compliment?

"Thank you?" he says uncertainly.

Hermione smiles at him, and this time it's a full blown smile and the compassion in it nearly eclipses her raw edges of sorrow and fatigue and loss. "You're welcome, Godric Gryffindor," she says, her face very close to his.

He immediately wants to take a step back. This isn't proper, not at all, but pain seeks pain and he can't resist.

She kisses him finally, and it's tentative and slow, and as Godric wraps his hands in her hair, he thinks that he might never understand this girl.

He's surprisingly okay with that.


End file.
